


This Endless Drought

by PaisleyHearts



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, coda fic, coda: s10e22, moc!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 11:52:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3935794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaisleyHearts/pseuds/PaisleyHearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And when you finally turn, and you will turn. Sam and everyone you know, everyone you love, they  could be long dead. Everyone except me. I'm the on who will have to watch you murder the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Endless Drought

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually write coda fic but here it goes. It was very heavily inspired by [this fic](http://defilerwyrm.tumblr.com/post/118917399571)

Years pass. Many. Too many. Castiel no longer has a need to keep track of the amount of decades that fall between his fingers just like he has no need to look for Dean anymore. Or the monster who was Dean.

See, the thing is, Castiel is no longer angel. While he possesses the powers of one, he hasn’t behaved as such since shortly after his fall. On top of that, he has stopped trying to rid the world of the thing Dean turned himself into.

For a few years, he strived to end it, no matter his personal feelings on the matter. He strived to be good, to exercise that free will he fought so furiously for. But after Lawrence was leveled with nothing more than Dean and his fury, after Sam died at the hand of those who claimed to be Dean’s servants, well there wasn’t much left to care after.

So Cas did what he could to protect. That’s what angels were for in the beginning. To protect those who could not protect themselves. He could go years, hiding in small communities and taught them how to not fight back, how to stay invisible. Inevitably, they would discover who he was and angrily seek for his head.

That’s the thing, Castiel also has a reputation, as dark and bloody as Dean’s. They know him as the Inhibitor. And they all have a right to say so. Because there were a million and one things Castiel could have done, back in the day, to prevent all of this from happening.

There is no changing that now.

Castiel is fresh out of a small group that was stationed in Fort Wayne who, thankfully, let him go quietly. He wonders about, walking as if he were human, looking for the next group that he is destined for help. Because this is the only way that Castiel can even begin to relieve himself of all the guilt that drags behind him like shackles linked to the earth below. In times like this, when it’s dark and quiet, Castiel wonders if it’s okay to stop. The stars glitter, what few of them are visible through the clouds, and he wonders if maybe it is time to end himself. In reality, the reason Dean does much of what he does is because he is looking for the last angel.

No, Castiel must continue. He told Dean he would be there until the end, the very end, even if it meant watching the world burn.

-

It takes Castiel just over two days to reach Detroit. There’s not much left of it, just jagged roads that never got repaired and hollowed out buildings. The people left this area shortly after, what many call, the Second Apocalypse. With the destruction of cities came a new wave of Christianity. People began to believe in the gospel written by Chuck the way they believed the books of Mark and Matthew and John and Paul. It didn’t matter, however, how deeply they believed when The Destroyer of All smiled at you with blood splattered on his smiling face.

None of it mattered.

Still, these are the cities that tend to have groups, hidden in the rubble. Those strong of will and in need of some protection.

“Well, look at this. Usually, I’m the one that finds you.”

Castiel tenses, already knowing how this will turn out. They will banter for a few minutes, then fight, level an entire city, and move on. Because both of them might be furious creatures but neither is strong enough to kill the other, despite what rumors and reputation follow them.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel does not turn, all too aware of how close Dean is to him at the moment and willing his presence to not affect him, not anymore.

His breath hitches as arms snake around his waist and there are lips at his ear. “What are _you_ doing in this place, huh? Couldn’t wait until our next date?”

Castiel turns, Dean’s arms still around him, and he balls the flimsy tshirt in his hands. “Let go of me.” He tries to say it with as much passion and anger as he can. But it comes out as a whisper.

“I’ll let go when I damn well want to.” The words are said at Castiel’s lips, breath staggering out of him hitched and fragile.

He should fight. He should always fight. But this? This is what he had wanted in the beginning. To be in this with Dean in any way he would have him. And it’s been years of this. Fights and destruction and blood but something so sweet and tender in the nights neither of them bare weapons. Who is Castiel to deny himself this? His final carnal pleasure in a world that barely exists, that hangs from a barely there thread.

He pulls away, barely a breath, “We can’t keep doing this.”

Dean chuckles, low in his throat. Instead of answering, he undoes buttons and pulls at clothing until they are both naked. He tells himself that this is a power play. That he wants to reduce poor little fallen-angel Castiel into mush so that’s easier for him to win. Except that excuse flew out the window after the tenth or twentieth time they did this. Dean tells himself every day that the next time will be the last. He knows it’s a lie. It’s always a lie.

Before long, the two are on the dirty ground, Dean clutching at Castiel’s shoulder for purchase and he slowly fucks himself onto Cas’ dick. It’s that time, when the both of them forget exactly where and who they are. When they turn into just two people yearning for closeness. Dean threads his fingers with Castiel’s and they become so tender, so slow with each other. As if they actually loved one another.

This doesn’t last too long. It never does, no matter how long Castiel tries to prologue it for his own sanity. They part, like strangers in a one night stand and dress themselves. How much more would the world hate the Inhibitor if they knew what he did in the dead of night? What would they say about the Destroyer if they knew of the things he truly thought of the final angel?

There is nothing left between them but cold air and could-have-been. Castiel stretches his hand out as if to touch Dean’s cheek and retracts at the last second. He knows that is not how it is.

It was never like that.


End file.
